ACW

Monday, 6 July 2015

It's Colin's fault I'm writing this - by Fran Hill

Colin tutored the creative writing class I joined in 1994.
I’d waved my youngest child off to primary school and sobbed over chocolate Hobnobs,
then browsed the adult education brochure for something to do as a valid excuse
for not having vacuumed behind the sofa.

I hummed and hawed over the options. Belly dancing? No – my
belly danced of its own accord without need of music. Photography? No – unless
they could tell me how to stop my husband shutting his eyes in every photo.
(One, taken at our daughter’s wedding, had to be digitally altered to make him
look conscious.) Keep fit? No. Just no.

Fran wondered how long she had to stay stuck like this until the ambulance came.

Ah. Creative writing. That was the one for me.

I’d been writing poetry since my teens, mainly angst poetry
that went ‘I wish I could die. My life is like hell. I wish I could die. And my
teachers as well.’

Later, I’d moved from angst to (intentional) comedy, writing comic poems, songs and
monologues which I imposed upon family and friends. Sometimes they laughed with
me; sometimes they laughed at me. Nothing much has changed.

We remember, don’t we, moments of deep emotional
significance? I remember exactly where I
sat in that first class of Colin’s. I recall the first exercise (write about
someone who’s just about to commit a crime) and what he said when I’d read my
200 words out about a woman shoplifter. ‘It’s not perfect,’ he told the class,
‘but one thing we know. She can write.’

I can write? I can write? I can write? Whichever way I said them, the words sounded tasty.

Galvanised into further study, I moved on from Colin’s
classes after three years to sitting for A level English Literature (at 37). I
followed this with an English degree and teacher training. But it all started
with him. We kept in touch by email: mentor and mentee. He was still teaching
until he died last year in his 80s.

Some key pieces of advice still influence my writing now. I
can hear him saying these things.

1. Beware of –ing words. You’ll sound like you’re playing
the triangle.

2. Don’t overuse similes and metaphors especially if they
detract from the narrative.

3. Sophisticated writing isn’t about long words or complex
sentences. Look at Carver and Hemingway.

7. Ignore your old Junior School teacher who told you to
love adjectives. Love verbs instead.

8. If you can’t take constructive criticism without having a
hissy fit, stick with the day job.

A favourite lesson of Colin’s was the ‘blind workshop’. We
brought a piece of writing on a given theme, unnamed. They were shuffled in a
hat and we each took one to read out. The resulting critique was more honest
and useful, so I’ve borrowed this method many times in school teaching and in
writing groups. It’s not one for the timid, but see Number 8 above.

10 comments:

Thanks, Fran. The only Creative Writing group I could find in Banbury when I started was the U3A one, and yes, I was far too young to be eligible for membership. But they let this young whippersnapper in, and encouraged me that they thought I COULD WRITE. :-)

I'm going to have to say it was Enid Blyton! I loved her adventure stories from a young age, and she made me want to create characters who did exciting and intrepid things! I did have a couple of English teachers who loved my stories and so they were a great encouragement too,

Thanks for this, Fran. You have a knack for making me smile, and then - while I'm still chortling - challenging me to keep honing my skills. My main influence? I started out wanting to write devotional material, so I was inspired by Tozer, Packer and Cynthia Heald. Then I discovered I like making people laugh - so Adrian Plass was someone to look up to.

Adrian Plass, yes! Our household was obsessed with him when the kids were growing up. A key influence on me too especially in the days when I wrote a column for the Christian Herald about the idiosyncrasies of church members and church life!